


Does it Trouble Your Mind the Way You Trouble Mine?

by Kittenly



Series: Halfway to Heaven and Just a Mile Out of Hell [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Somehow these two still haven't figured out that they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenly/pseuds/Kittenly
Summary: Darling and Valentine find a way to spend a rainy afternoon. Companion fic to a piece I commissioned for these two.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Series: Halfway to Heaven and Just a Mile Out of Hell [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/564550
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Does it Trouble Your Mind the Way You Trouble Mine?

“Do you dance, Darling?” Valentine asked. 

“What?” I said, startling out of my thoughts, which were about as grey and dismal as the weather. They usually were when I was following up leads about Shaun and the Institute. 

Rain pounded the upper floor of the shop we were holed up in and dripped through cracks in the ceiling. Someone had been here before us and had shoved all the merchandise racks to the sides of the room in a vain effort to make the place more defensible. They had, however, gotten the windows covered in some crude shutters, which kept a lot of the rain out. It was about as good as you could hope to get this close to the Glowing Sea.

“You dance at all?” Valentine said from near the shop counter, where he’d placed an old gramophone--one of the old ones with a horn and powered by spring rather than electricity. He’d also laid out a dozen or so records around him, examining them to see if any were still usable. 

“Where did you find that?” I asked coming up next to him. It was a handsome little antique he’d stumbled across, and I watched him decide on a promising record and carefully set the needle on it. 

The music came out a little tinny and warbling, but stuck in that abandoned shop, safe from the pouring rain, the melancholic waltz made the place feel downright cozy. 

“In the back. Along with about a decade’s worth of beans,” he said and gave me an expectant look. “You’re dodging the question.”

I shrugged and found myself tapping my finger along with the music. “My family were rich southerners--of course I know how to dance.”

“Perfect. Then why don’t you dance with me?” he said, stepping back into the shop floor and holding out a hand. 

I couldn’t think of a reason to refuse, so I took his hand and let myself be pulled onto the floor. His hand went around my back and mine settled near his shoulder. 

He took the lead with some hesitation, as if he could only just remember the steps. Granted, he was probably over a century longer out of practice than me. Despite my grey mood, I found myself smiling and caught his eye. 

“You need me to lead?” I asked. He grinned sheepishly. 

“Just until I wake up that old muscle memory,” he said and moved his hand to my shoulder. His waist was warm under my hand, and I pulled him a little closer. We’d abandoned our damp coats when we made camp, and I wasn’t gonna waste all the heat his machinery put out. 

I couldn’t remember the last time I had danced with someone like this--maybe my wedding? Not since law school at least. However, unlike Valentine, my lessons had been ground deep. His smile grew as it came back to him. 

“Where’d you learn this?” I asked him once we’d found a comfortable rhythm. 

“Community center in South Chicago. I took every after school activity they offered in high school. You?”

I shrugged. “Everyone I knew growing up learned. Along with etiquette and manners classes.” I made a face and Valentine laughed. 

The music changed slightly, a slight swing emerging in the waltz. I loosened our steps, and a playful edge crept into our movements. 

“You put the latter to excellent use,” Valentine said, amusement in his bright eyes. “Only someone with such an intimate knowledge of manners could be as thoroughly impertinent as you.”

“I got no idea what you mean,” I said, unable to keep the shit-eating grin off my face. 

Valentine rolled his eyes then stopped us briefly, asking, “You mind if I try leading again? I think I got it.”

We switched positions. His hand didn’t simply rest at my back this time though. He held onto me. Held me close. 

He’d found his memory, and his leading was more relaxed than mine. Made it feel less like a performance. I actually laughed out loud when he twirled me. 

“What were we talking about?” he asked, taking us back into the waltz. 

“I was objecting to being labeled as impertinent.”

“Darling, it takes you about three seconds to piss off every authority figure you encounter.” 

I scoffed. “Name one,” I said, “I’m as pleasant as a clam.”

“Mhm. That’s definitely how that saying goes,” Valentine said. “But alright, Mayor McDonough. How many times has he threatened to throw you out of the city? You’re giving Piper a run for her money.”

“Ain’t my fault Mayor McDonut got a stick the size of a telephone pole up his ass.”

“Maybe not, but it _is_ your fault you call him ‘McDonut.’ Or pickpocket him and then inform that him you pickpocketed him while looking through his wallet.” There was a strained note in Valentine’s voice. His exasperation couldn’t quite overcome his amusement, but it was a near thing. 

“I can’t help it,” I said, and readjusted my hand on his arm. “Authority needs to remember it’s human. Also I got awful poor impulse control and routinely make bad life choices.” 

“Well, points for some self-awareness, I guess,” Valentine said, shaking his head. His hold on me didn’t slacken, which I hoped meant he didn’t find me too obnoxious.

Neither of us spoke for a while after that. Just danced through that empty shop until the music ended, then put it back on to start all over. 

We talked about small things every now and then, but I got quieter as night fell. Then dancing became more of a swaying as my weariness grew. Soon I’d need to sleep and then it would be morning. 

“Why?” I asked, settling my head on Valentine’s shoulder. “Why dancing? You seem more the type to read away the afternoon.”

He shrugged, jostling my head. “I dunno. It was something different, and I thought maybe it would take your mind off things for a while at least.”

My stomach twisted upon being reminded of my quest for the Institute. A better parent than I wouldn’t have tolerated delays like I was. But instead, here I was, dreading leaving this little bubble of contentment. 

“Ever since we got this lead on Virgil you’ve been awful blue,” Valentine continued. “I know how much this obligation to Shaun eats at you, and I hate seeing you like this.” He let go of my hand so he could give me a real hug. “I just don’t know what to do. I know this don’t make anything better really.”

A lump congealed in my throat, and I was grateful my face was turned away so he couldn’t see the tears pricking my eyes. 

“No,” I said, and had to stop to get enough air through my throat. “No--this was...not bad.”

Valentine laughed against me. “Wow. I think that may have approached nice.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I said, still fighting the tightness in my throat. 

* * *

The next day dawned just as grey and gloomy as the last, but it wasn’t raining near so hard. So that meant we had no good excuse to stay. Still, I was in better spirits. And as I ate a breakfast of beans straight from a can, I leaned over to Valentine. 

“Hand me my PipBoy?” I asked. 

“Sure,” Valentine said and tossed it to me. “What are you doing?”

“Marking this spot. I’m coming back for that gramophone.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Art by @poorlyformed. Find her at https://poorlyformed.tumblr.com/ or https://twitter.com/poorlyformedart


End file.
